


Die Hard: With a Winchester

by SugMak



Category: Die Hard (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean, Brotherly Bonding, Christmas Party, Die Hard References, Explicit Language, Gen, Hostage Situations, Inspired by a Movie, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Police Officer Dean, Reunions, Smart Dean Winchester, Terrorism, This is just the plot of Die Hard with the Supernatural cast, Violence, not so much inspired by a movie and more IS a movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5498015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugMak/pseuds/SugMak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was watching Die Hard, my favorite Christmas movie of all time, and was struck by the strong need to see Dean Winchester as John McClain. Since no one else wrote it, I’m trying my hand at it. We’ll see how it goes.</p><p>Just to be clear, this is essentially the plot of Die Hard (the first one) Supernatural style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starts a little slow, but then again so does the movie

Dean Winchester tried to remember to take deep breaths as the plane came in for a landing. How was this shit supposed to go? In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the… holy fucking shit was it supposed to be dropping so fast? Who the fuck thought this was a sane way to travel? He grit his teeth and tried to slow his breathing one more time. Usually he didn’t go for any of that hippy breathing exercise bullshit, but he’d be damned if he would have to get that flight attendant back with a paper bag to keep him from hyperventilating.

His seat mate glanced at the white knuckled grip Dean had on his arm rest, then up at his face and smiled. Had it not required prying his hand from the arm rest, Dean would have punched the asshole in the face.

“Nervous flier?”

 _No,_ Dean barely resisted saying, _I love hurtling to my death in a metal tube._

“You wanna know the trick to surviving air travel?”

Dean just raised his eyebrows in response.

“When you get to where you’re going, find a place with carpeting. Take off your shoes and socks and make fists in the carpet with your toes.”

Dean took a moment from his near panic attack to stare incredulously at the other man. “Make fists in the carpet with your toes,” he repeated.

The other guy laughed, sounding cheerful enough to set Dean’s teeth on edge. “I know it sounds crazy, but trust me. I’ve been doing this for nine years.”

“Right,” said Dean, breathing through the landing while keeping an eye on the crazy person next to him. He shot from his seat as soon as the seat belt sign was off, pulling open the overhead compartment to grab his bags and go. He paused as the man next to him laid a hand on his arm.

“Remember,” the man said with a kind smile. “Fists with your toes,”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind,”

Feet back on terra firma, Dean’s heartbeat began to slow to a more manageable pace. Walking into the waiting area, however, his stomach twisted for a whole new reason.

 _This is stupid,_ he thought, picking his way through happily embracing families and friends. There was no way this was going to go well. He would be doing everyone a favor if he just turned right back around and… well maybe he’d drive back. How much would it cost to rent a car to drive across the country?

He was so busy mentally calculating his meager savings he almost missed the gangly young guy in an ill fitting suit holding a sign with his name on it.

He stopped, shook his head for a moment and then approached the man. “Uh, hi. I’m Dean Winchester.”

The man grinned toothily at him. “Well hi Dean Winchester! I’m Garth. Your limo driver.”

Dean blinked at the man, involuntarily clutching his battered and worn canvas bag closer to him. “My limo driver?” he asked feeling shabbier by the second. He knew this was a fucking stupid idea.

The kid in front of him just nodded bouncing on the balls of his feet for a few seconds in silence. Finally Dean raised his eyebrows. “Okay well here I am. So what next?”

“I, uh, was hoping you could tell me. It’s my first day on the job,” said Garth with a tentative smile.

Dean fought his own smile in response. “Okay, uh, Garth. It’s my first limo, so I guess we’ll just have to figure it out as we go.”

****************************************

It was Christmas Eve and Sam was buried in paperwork. He knew this was going to happen, he reflected as he went to grab another cup of coffee, but it didn’t stop his jittery anxiousness for a second. This was why he had Dean meet him at the company Christmas party - he knew he’d be working until the last possible second. Hell, the only reason he had Dean coming to the office Christmas party at all was because he couldn’t get out of the event. Okay, yes he was a little proud and eager to show his big brother that he made something of himself, but he still wished he had some time to gather himself before Dean showed. If Dean showed. There was no way Dean was going to show.

What the hell had he been thinking? Had he really expected his blue collar, no bullshit, whiskey drinking brother to want to sip champagne and mingle with a bunch of LA lawyers including his estranged brother? Fuck it’s no wonder Dean wasn’t going to show up. Unless he did.

Suppressing a groan, Sam grabbed another stack of files on his way back to his desk. This was not helping. He needed to focus, to get a least some of the mountain of paperwork on his desk filed and in his outbox before he could join the festivities and see Dean. If he was there. Which he probably wasn’t because why would he be?

Before his brain could do yet another lap around that track, he felt an entirely unwelcome presence at his side. “Hey, man, the shindig’s about to get started,” his sometime friend Brady said.

“Yeah I know, I just need to get a few more things done before I can join you guys,” he said levelly.

Brady rolled his eyes. “Figures. Hey what are you up to after the party?”

Sam leveled a blank stare at him. “What am I doing? It’s Christmas, Brady.”

Brady blinked. “Okay?”

“Christmas? I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Stockings, tree, lots of food, family, eggnog?”

“Well I might be with you on the eggnog part. You still banking on the asshole making an appearance, Sammy boy?”

Sam glared at him. “It’s Sam. We’re not 19 anymore. And you know, it’s a lot harder to pretend I don’t know you do drugs when you use them right in front of me. Which you always do when I agree to ‘hang out.’”

Brady laughed. “That’s a yes, then,” he said, stopping in the doorway of Sam’s office. “Hey, who knows, maybe he’ll show. Season of miracles and all that shit.”

“Right,” said Sam, gritting his teeth until Brady made his exit. He turned to meet the knowing eyes of his very pregnant assistant. “Shut up,” he said without heat.

“I didn’t say a word, Mr. Winchester,” she said with a grin.

“Uh huh. Go out and join the party, Carol. You’re making me feel like the Grinch.”

“Well we can’t have that,” she said, heaving herself up onto her feet. “I’ll mingle with the rest of the Whos down in Whoville until it’s speech time for you.” Sam flashed her a brief but genuine dimpled grin and she smiled in response, patting her stomach absently. “You think my little Cindy Lou Who in here can handle a sip or two of champagne?”

“I couldn’t begin to figure out how to answer that even if you wanted me to,” said Sam with a fond shake of his head. “Hey, uh… no one has called for me in the last little while, have they?”

Carol shook her head. “No, no missed calls, boss.”

“I figured as much, just wanted to check,” said Sam, trying not to let his heart sink. “Go on.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!” she said, waddling off and whistling “You’re a mean one, Mr Grinch” as she left.

Sam smiled faintly and turned around in his chair to look at the small collection of photos. He picked up one frame containing two pictures. On the left was the NYPD’s official portrait of Dean, dressed in full uniform. He’d managed to snag a copy from his Uncle Bobby and loved it right away because Dean’s “I can’t believe you’re making me do” this expression was so at odds with the pride in his eyes about making it into the force. It was a look he’d seen aimed in his direction all the time growing up. On the right was a picture from before he left for law school, a young Dean pulling an even younger Sam in for a noogie, grinning madly as Sam tried to get away. Uncle Bobby could be seen laughing in the distance.

A loud cheer could be heard from the party just down the hall and Sam sighed, putting the frame face down on his desk. He was brooding over nothing. He needed to get _something_ done if he ever wanted to leave his office tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of exposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is almost entirely exposition. The fun begins next chapter - arguments and terrorists and hostages, oh my! But I wanted to get this one up now so I could work on it.
> 
> Also imagine Sarah Blake a little older in this one. I wanted to make Takagi's character Jody, but even though I'm sure Jody would be more than capable of building a profitable law firm, I just couldn't see her sending a limo for Dean and putting a waterfall in a 30th floor office building.

“I’m, uh, not entirely sure but I think I could get fired for this,” said Garth.

“Nah, you’ve been hired to give rich folks what they want, right? This is what I want,” said Dean.

“I'm not a hooker, Dean. I’m not here to give rich people what they want, I’m here to provide comfortable transportation to the people who hire me,” said Garth.

“Well it just so happens,” Dean said making a sharp left, back end of the limo fishtailing behind him, “that I’m more comfortable driving.”

Garth just made a strangled noise, white knuckling the passenger side’s “oh shit” handle.

“Though I gotta say, this whole limo thing is over sold. For starters, they handle like shit.”

“I’m pretty sure the whole selling point is comfortable ride and all the space in the back. Plus the minibar.”

Dean knew that, of course, but he just spent the last few hours hurtling through the air at the hands of some faceless pilot and he was about to spend the next two or three days in Sam’s space with Sam’s people and in a world he knew nothing about. For the moment it felt good to be in control of where he was going and how fast.

“Mini bar? You should have led with than one, Garth. It might have changed things,” was all he said out loud.

Garth snorted. “I doubt it. What are you, a race car driver?”

“New York Cop,” he said with a small smile. “That’s why I’m not speeding.”

Garth’s eyebrows raised to his hairline as he glanced pointedly at the speedometer. 

“Much,” Dean amended, easing off the gas slightly.

“Uh huh. So you’re NYPD. What are you doing at an LA Law Office party?” asked Garth, squinting at his instructions sheet. "Isn’t that a little outside your jurisdiction?”

“Not here for work,” said Dean shortly, attempting another hairpin turn, kind of enjoying the way it made Garth clutch onto the door handle. 

“Ah, so you’re here for pleasure then,” said Garth with a grin.

“You always ask this many questions?” asked Dean.

Garth shrugged. “I used to be a cabbie. People expect a little conversation.”

The car was silent for a moment. Garth was content to wait him out, looking blithely at him while Dean focused a little too intently on the road. Finally Dean broke the silence. “I’m visiting my brother.”

Garth whistled. “Now there’s a story.”

“What?” said Dean, glancing briefly at Garth in confusion. “What do you mean ‘there’s a story’? It’s Christmas. I’m visiting my brother. What’s so weird about that?”

Garth lifted his hands up in innocence. “Nothing, man. But people usually don’t respond like that when they’re just visiting family for the holidays. So what happened? You steal his wife? He make off with the family savings?”

Dean snorted. “No.”

“One big blow up then? He come out as gay at the holidays and you all disowned him?” asked Garth.

“What?! No! Why would I ever...? Just... no.” Dean sputtered indignantly.

“Just asking, man,” Garth shrugged. “Something must have happened.”

 _Yeah, first he ditched his loser brother, then he shattered my illusions and I couldn’t handle it,_ thought Dean. He struggled for a concise answer.

“I practically raised the kid. Our family situation was... kind of fucked up. When he flew the nest to go to college, my dad blew up at him, told him he was abandoning his family to go chase ambulances. Freaked out even more when he wanted to be a public defender. My brother said some shitty things in response and I... I took it kind of hard.“

Garth looked at Dean expectantly, then did a double take at his silence. “You’re kidding me, right? That’s it? You’re estranged from your brother because he went to school to be a lawyer?”

“Of course not,” Dean snapped. “There’s more to it.”

“Okay,” said Garth slowly. Dean’s lips thinned and silence filled the car. “Come on, sharing is caring.”

Dean leveled a glare at him.

“You can’t go into this meeting with your brother with all of this hanging over your head.”

“I... What? What are you, a limo driver, a cabbie, or a therapist?” asked Dean incredulously.

Garth had the gall to grin at his indignation. “I’m using this job to pay for my psych degree.”

Dean snorted. “Of course you are. Fuckin’ West Coasters."

“So he went off to school but things changed,” Garth guessed.

Dean sighed. “I mean, it was on me at first, was still kind of hurt that he left so I ignored his calls. By the time I pulled my head out of my ass and contacted him he, uh...” Dean cleared his throat noisily. “He made it clear he didn’t want anything to do with my family and I get it. I mean we’re a police family and all but my dad did some fucked up things for a while after my mom died and we weren’t usually on the right side of the law. Kid wanted to be a lawyer, didn’t need his ‘highly dysfunctional’ family standing in the way of that if we weren’t always on the up and up. Whatever. It was fine.”

Garth made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat that somehow managed to convey disbelief, but he didn’t comment. He picked up the story from where Dean left of. “But then you became a cop.”

Dean grunted, but didn’t say anything. Silence filled the car as he navigated his way through the LA traffic.

Garth tried again. “And when you tried to contact him again...?”

Dean huffed in irritation. “I tried to surprise him after I graduated from the police academy. Found drugs in his apartment. Jumped to stupid conclusions. I said some shitty things, he said some shitty things, we both said even shittier things even louder, then I left. Haven’t seen him since.”

Garth’s eyes widened. “He was using-”

“Nah,” said Dean. “They were his friend’s. I wouldn’t have just abandoned him if I really thought he was hooked on anything.”

“But you kept hoping he’d realize that if your family’s past was a problem, his friends were an even bigger problem. You were waiting for him to realize he was wrong about you or about them and come crawling back to you,” said Garth with an amused smile.

Dean huffed in irritation. “I’m a New York cop with a backlog of scumbags to put away. I didn’t have the time to chase after someone who doesn’t want to be chased after anymore.”

Garth whistled low and Dean gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. _This was such a fucking stupid idea. It’s not too late. I could still fake an emergency call from my Chief,_ Dean though. But goddamnit it was Christmas. He couldn’t leave his brother hanging on Christmas.

“So, you two are going to see each other, be overcome with emotion, and let the past few years go as you hug it out?” said Garth, far too amused for Dean’s liking.

Dean just glared at Garth.

“Gonna stand there and yell at each other again and not speak for the next few years?” asked Garth.

“Shaddup,” said Dean as he pulled up to the sky scraper that held Sam’s law office. He looked up at the building and took a deep breath, steeling himself to go in.

“Hey, Dean,” said Garth from the car. “You got somewhere to stay just in case this doesn’t work out too well?”

“I can figure something out.”

“Okay, well you want me to wait for you in the parking garage? Give me a call on my cell. If things are going well, I’ll drop your bags off with the door man. If not, I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” said Garth.

Dean looked over at Garth in surprise. “Yeah? Thanks, man. You’re alright,” he said, making a mental note to remember that when he signed for the tip.

Garth’s smile was blinding in response. “That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Uhh... okay, well I’ll give you a call when I know what’s going on,” said Dean.

“Bye now! Good luck!”

*****************************

Dean took in the office as the 30th floor elevator doors opened. He knew his brother’s law firm was swanky, hadn’t been expecting a cubicle farm, but this was something else. He walked out into a big open space with a few offices to the side and a hallway probably leading to more offices. The decor was somewhat minimalist, but with smooth glass and polished wood surfaces. There was a large indoor waterfall and pond lined with giant rocks for Christ’s sake. Dean shook his head in bemusement. They were on the 30th floor of an office building in downtown LA. At what point did trying to build an ambiance cross over into pure stupidity?

The people were much the same, decked out in suits that probably cost more than he made in six months. He snagged a glass of something hopefully boozy from a passing waiter’s tray and took a long gulp. He immediately grimaced at the sweet champagne and dropped the glass on the next passing waiter’s tray. Seriously, he liked the occasional aged scotch or expensive car, but on the whole, he’d never understand rich people and their tastes.

Still, he took in the party, impressed despite himself, especially with the spectacular view from the floor to ceiling windows. That his little brother did well for himself was never a surprise, but seeing it for himself was something else.

“Hey! Hey! Merry Christmas!”

Dean turned around just in time or a drunk stranger to plant one on his cheek and walk away. “Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head in amusement. “Fuckin’ Californians.”

He scanned the room until his eyes caught an elegantly dressed woman who seemed to be somewhat in charge. “Hi, I’m looking for-”

“Sam Winchester, right?” she asked giving him a blinding grin.

“Yeah,:

“You must be Dean. Sarah Blake. It’s nice to meet you. How was your ride in?”

“Nice,” said Dean. “I have you to thank for that?”

Sarah smiled. “It was the least we could do. After all, according to Sam we have you to thank for the fact that he even made it through school to be here with us today.”

Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I, uh, think there must be some mistake. Sam got through Stanford completely on his own.”

She smiled even wider. “Oh, that we know. We’ve had our eye on him since... probably about halfway through his junior year of undergrad. Still, I think you underestimate your influence. Weren’t you the one who got him through high school and helped him study for the SATs?”

 _No,_ thought Dean sourly. _I barely got my GED. It’s a goddamn miracle the Police Academy took me in and even that was probably because of Bobby._ What kind of bullshit had Sam been slinging about him to make him more acceptable to his coworkers?More to the point, what the hell was the point? He was only going to meet these people for a few hours tops. He was sure he could manage to not be a _total_ embarrassment even without bullshit stories to prop him up. 

“...think you’d be proud of the work he’s done here. You know this firm was a tough sell on him,” Sarah told him as she led him across the room toward some of the offices.

“What? Why?” said Dean, tuning back in to her chatter.

Sarah arched a brow. “I’m not going to be falsely modest here, Dean. This is one of the richest law firms in the country. We negotiate billion dollar contracts, represent Fortune 500 companies, celebrities, politicians, you name it. Sam wanted to change the world, not sell out.”

Dean smiled fondly. “Sammy’s a stubborn kid. How’d you convince him?”

Sarah smiled. “I just told him if he could get specialties in both corporate law and criminal law, he could take on as many pro bono cases as he wanted. No restrictions.”

Dean whistled low. “That’s pretty generous.”

“Not really,” said Sarah with a shake of her head. “His projects are great for PR and, coincidentally, line up pretty nicely with what I’d like to be doing if I hadn’t gotten so distracted by making millions.” she said, surprising a laugh out of Dean. “Meanwhile I think he enjoys the challenge of a number of the for-profit corporate cases we send his way. There’s a reason I’ve grown his department into the largest one in the company.”

Dean had no idea if she was trying to sell him on Sam or on the company - or why she would feel like either was necessary, but he went along with it. “It’s a pretty nice place you guys have got here.”

“It will be once they’re finished construction. Here we are,” she said, bringing him to am office door. “I think Sam went to make a few copies but here’s his office.”

As she opened the door, a man who was very much not Sam stood up quickly from the desk, sniffing deeply as he tried to brush something off Sam’s desk. “I was, uh, just making a call. This was the nearest phone,” the man bluffed in one of the most pathetically obvious lies Dean had ever seen. Dean beat down his anger. Seriously? Sam was too good for his family but still hung out with druggies?

Slow down, said the rational voice in his head that sometimes took the form of Sam and sometimes of Benny, his partner on the force. Isn’t jumping to conclusions what got you into this mess with Sam in the first place?

“Dean, this is Tyson Brady. He’s in charge of client contracts and negotiations. Brady, this is Sam’s brother Dean. A New York policeman,” she said, glaring daggers at the man though her placid smile never faltered.

Brady put on a smarmy smile and held out his hand. “Heard a heck of a lot about you,” he said between attempts at discrete sniffs.

Dean shook his hand, a smile playing around his mouth. “You missed some.”

He moved past Brady, who was frantically trying to wipe his nose and act natural at the same time, to take a look at Sam’s desk.

“Can I get you anything?” asked Sarah. “Cake, watered down champagne?”

“No I’m okay, thanks,” said Dean, still taking in the papers and frames littering Sam’s desk with a small, this time genuine smile. “That’s quite a party you’ve got going,” he said, finally looking back at Sarah, picture of Bobby still in his hand. “I thought it was un-PC to call it a Christmas party though.”

Sarah shrugged. “When you’re throwing your holiday party on Christmas Eve, it’s best just to call a spade a spade.” They both ignored Brady’s overly loud laughter at that remark. “We got distracted with a major contract which was kind of all hands on deck, so the party get delayed. We’ll do better with inclusivity next year,”

“Yeah we’re just closing up the deal today - Sam was actually a pretty big part of it, am I right, Sarah?”

Dean couldn’t imagine how he was supposed to reply but he was saved from an attempt when a noise from just outside the office signaled Sam’s arrival.

Sam started to walk into the room absentmindedly until his eyes caught on Dean. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening and adam’s apple bobbing. Everything stopped for a moment as their eyes caught.

“Dean,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Sammy.”

Sam tentatively approached his brother. Neither was sure who moved first, but they found themselves wrapped up in a bear hug, squeezing each other as tight as they could. Sam finally stepped away, clearing his throat. “You made it,” he said, still gripping his brother’s shoulder right.

Dean shrugged. “I said I would,” he said as if he hadn’t almost turned back at least twelve times on the way here. He, unlike his brother, was uncomfortably aware of Sarah grinning sentimentally and Brady glaring spitefully, both still in the room.

“Show him the watch,” said Brady, without taking his dark gaze off Dean.

Sam glanced at the other man in the room. “Later,” he said absently.

Brady finally took his eyes off Dean. “Well go on, show him! What are you embarrassed?” he said, full of false cheer and smarm. “It’s just a small token of our appreciation for all his hard work. It’s a Rolex.”

Since it was clear some response was expected of him, Dean just cleared his throat. “I’m sure I’ll see it later,” he murmured. Right now he just wanted to get away from his audience. “Is there a place I can wash up?” he asked Sam.

Sam smiled, flashing his dimples at Dean for the first time in years. God he missed the kid. “

“Sure,” Sam replied, leading him away


End file.
